


Kiss Me

by Avengerz



Category: Black Panther (2018), Black Panther (Comics), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pretty Woman Fusion, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sugar Daddy!T'Challa, hooker!Tony, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-16 13:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7270996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avengerz/pseuds/Avengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You can take the boy out of the streets, but you can’t take the streets out of the boy,” Tony quips and T’Challa laughs again and Tony grins and wishes it wasn’t true. He’s not worthy of this, he knows, not worthy of this gorgeous prince with the kind eyes and the gentle laugh, not worthy of a beautiful man too busy to find an actual boyfriend, not worthy to win over his employer’s heart but oh <b>god</b> how he wishes he was.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> For a prompt on [ImagineIronPanther](http://imagineironpanther.tumblr.com): "Pretty Woman AU where Prince T'Challa meets hooker!Tony by chance and employs him as his boyfriend for important events. They fall in love obviously and Tony (who refused when they first met) finally kisses T'Challa on the mouth and it's all fluff and rainbows"

****It’s not the weirdest job Tony’s ever had, and it’s certainly better than the one john who’d been obsessed with the scars from the heart surgery that landed him in this occupation, or the lady with the ear fetish. This guy smiles and says he’d like to dress Tony up and take him to parties and somehow it doesn’t sound weird at all coming from his lips. He’s rich, Tony can tell, with a bespoke suit and a luxury BMW. It doesn’t hurt that he’s absolutely gorgeous and Tony has a death wish, so he gives his corner (prime real estate) to Parker until he comes back (if he comes back, because Tony’s well aware of the dangers of his job), and climbs into the car after the man.

“Don’t kiss me on the mouth,” he tells the man, his one rule, and that’s that.

* * *

 

“But enough about me,” Janet says with a twinkling laugh, and Tony frowns because she’s one of the few people at this gala that he actually enjoys talking to, and because if she doesn’t want to talk about herself than she’ll probably want to- “Let’s talk about you two!” She glances between him and T’Challa with a grin. “You guys have been together for a while now, should I expect a letter in the mail?”

She giggles and Tony grins and tries to hide the way his hand has fisted in the material at the back of T’Challa’s jacket. T’Challa chuckles smoothly and runs a hand down Tony’s spine. “I wouldn’t get too far ahead of yourself, Mrs. Van Dyne.”

“Yeah,” Tony chimes in with the small measure of arrogant street boy he’s been allowed to keep in this sparkling world. “D’you know how hard it is to woo the Prince of Wakanda? There’s challenges. I think I’m expected to fight a panther or something.” They all laugh and the conversation moves along. Crises averted.

It throws Tony off, though, that reminder of the nature of this farce. He’s never going to marry T’Challa, because they’re not even really dating. Tony’s paid to be here, in luxury chambers at the palace and bespoke clothing and a bi-weekly paycheck.

He doesn’t cash the checks anymore, hasn’t for nearly three months, because at some point this stopped feeling like a job. Tony knows the dangers of emotion, knows how sentiment can ruin a guy like him in a world like this, but right now he watches the curve of T’Challa’s smile as he wines and dines the American elite and he feels like he can’t breath with the force of the love that washes over him.

* * *

T’Challa finds him in the alley outside the kitchen entrance, dirtying his suit with the wall he’s leaning against and destroying his lungs with a lit cigarette. T’Challa watches him for a moment, his dark eyes unreadable in the dim light from a distant streetlamp. “Those things will kill you,” he says finally, quiet, and Tony shrugs.

“Hey, I made it to twenty-five. That’s more than I honestly expected.” Still, he stubs the cigarette out against the brick wall, lets it fall to the ground. He crosses his arms against a sudden gust of chilly November wind down the alley and nods his head towards the building they’ve both exited. “Finally depleted your reserves of patience for those asshats?”

T’Challa chuckles, his brilliant white teeth flashing, and Tony’s weak heart thuds hard against his ribcage. “I’ve been raised to this, remember,” he says, and walks to lean against the wall next to Tony. “I have more patience for those asshats than you.”

“You can take the boy out of the streets, but you can’t take the streets out of the boy,” Tony quips and T’Challa laughs again and Tony grins and wishes it wasn’t true. He’s not worthy of this, he knows, not worthy of this gorgeous prince with the kind eyes and the gentle laugh, not worthy of a beautiful man too busy to find an actual boyfriend, not worthy to win over his employer’s heart but oh _god_ how he wishes he was.

Silence has fallen between them, and T’Challa is watching him again with that expression that Tony can never read. He fidgets under it, uncomfortable. “What,” he says finally, “do I have something on my face?”

T’Challa shakes his head and looks away. “No, sorry. I was just-” he cuts himself off, and it’s such a rare occurrence for the eloquent man that Tony stares at him in surprise. “You said,” T’Challa resumes, low and controlled in a way that puts Tony on his guard, “on that very first night that we met, that I should never kiss you on the mouth.”

Tony stares at him, mute with shock. Of course Tony said that, it’s what he says to every john that picks him up because Tony is willing to do almost anything for his next meal, but that’s just too intimate. He wasn’t sure T’Challa would remember, nine months and zero rounds of sex later, but apparently he did. Why he’s bringing it up now, though, Tony has no idea.

“Uh, yeah?”

T’Challa appears to take a deep breath. “I was wondering,” he says, even slower. “If you had reconsidered.”

Tony can’t breathe. He literally can’t even suck in a breath, his entire body shut down as he stares at T’Challa because no, he can’t have heard right, he must be misinterpreting the prince, there’s no way-

T’Challa’s eyes flick over his face, and whatever he sees there - shock, most likely, disbelief, tentative hope - prompts him to say, quiet and cautious in the way no one should ever address a whore, “may I kiss you, Tony?”

Tony can only nod. T’Challa beams, his lips parting into a radiant grin. In the grimy alley, Tony’s blinded by it. Then T’Challa leans in and Tony doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to hold himself, doesn’t know what to do with his hands because he knows a hundred and one sex positions, knows all the blowjob tricks in the book, knows how to bat his eyelashes and bare his neck and ignore the pain from a john who doesn’t care about his pleasure, but he doesn’t know how to do this, doesn’t know how to kiss someone he loves.

Something of that must show on his face, in the tense way he holds himself, because T’Challa pauses, mere centimeters away. “Is this okay?” he asks quietly, and Tony stares at his lips.

“Yes,” he says hoarsely, and leans in. It’s a breath of fresh air, the way their lips line together. It’s a gentle brush, feather-light, then T’Challa pulls away, cautious gaze flicking across Tony’s face, gauging his reaction. Tony can’t breathe without T’Challa to help him.

He grabs the prince by the lapels, pulls him in against him, and kisses him properly. T’Challa chuckles into the kiss and Tony’s dry lips drag slightly against T’Challa’s and T’Challa nips lightly at his bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth to soothe it and Tony wonders how he could have ever been afraid of this.

A small eternity later, they relax into light brushes of mouth against mouth, shared breath in the silent alley. “I may have to revise my answer to Mrs. Van Dyne’s question,” T’Challa murmurs against his lips, and Tony closes his eyes and wishes for forever.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find more IronPanther at ImagineIronPanther!
> 
> Comments are hugely appreciated!


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